#I just find the lack of evil demon juice more interesting

[tea-cat-arts]

To me, one of the most baffling changes the donghua made was making it so demonic cultivation is actually what caused wwx to snap. The book's "wwx snapped after witnessing his clan die, being thrown in the torture pit for 3 months, participating in a war, getting isolated from his family, and suddenly becoming responsible for a clan that's being actively persecuted and the only safe place is the aforementioned torture pit. Wwx doesn't let anyone know the full extent of his pain, so everyone incorrectly assumes the demonic cultivation is what's making him act up. Also Demonic cultivation is the one the one thing letting him keep his illusion of control and power, so he lashes out against people like lwj who are trying to take it away from him" just makes more sense to me and is also more consistent with the idea that resentful energy and the study of it is morally neutral

[themadauthorshatter]

OTP PARENT HEADCANONS PART 2

Because I'm bored.

And I want to give myself some serotonin.

And because I've put this off for a long time😅

RED QUEEN:

Shade and Coriane were never afraid of monsters under their beds because Cal would "scare them away" with a really bright flashlight.

Both children have a little bit of buidling and tinkering in them. Shade showed it by switching out lightbulbs and pointed out the ones he was putting in would be better at being adjusted than the ones before and Coriane showed it by fixing a clock.

Mare isn't exactly the best at cooking, but she's at least better than Cal. And her mother; sorry, Ruth.

Both children are excellent swimmers, much to Cal's chagrin.

Coriane remembers meeting her great Nanabel, and the smile she had at the sight of her great granddaughter.

Shade didn't really have a chance to meet her.

Both children wish they could have met their uncle on their mother's side and uncle, grandfather, and grandmother on their father's side.

Both Samos siblings are allowed to see the children, and neither of the children were excited; they'd heard "scary stories" about them and their father, who sounds scary; no, Cal didn't make it clear that Volo was dead, all he said was the Samos patriarch had fallen down and didn't get up, so they assumed that meant he couldn't use his arms anymore.

They were all pretty surprised to meet each other.

Ptolemus was more like a fun uncle than the berserker they all knew.

He did explain that Volo did indeed fall, but couldn't get up because of how high he fell.

The electricons love how entertained the children are with their lightning abilities.

Tyton is a pretty good babysitter. Coriane is allowed to stay up, but only after Shade has gone to bed.

Kilorn is not allowed to teach either child how to swim; there was an 'incident' where Cal tried to be brave and go swimming and Kilorn scared the living hell out of him.

That's fine because neither children like swimming.

Yes. Just because the children are good at swimming doesn't mean they enjoy it.

Mare has told Gisa she doesn't need to make the children outfits, but Gisa did it anyway because she loves her niece and nephew.

The court ettique stuck with Cal, which has led to him raising the children to be very formal.

SCHOOL FOR GOOD AND EVIL(I'm naming Tedros and Agatha's son Anthony):

Both parents were kind of scared Anthony was mute because he didn't start talking until he was nearly a year old. He's not mute, he just doesn't talk much.

You have to catch him at just the right moment. Anthony is completely silent around large crowds or assemblies, but with his parents he's half of a chatterbox, at least.

Anthony and Agatha can have full conversations with nothing but facial expressions.

Tedros had a hard time getting Anthony to open up to him, and decided to give the boy space for a little bit.

It was absolutely worth it for the heart to heart they had.

Hester and Anadil hate kids, but Agatha's and Tedros's little demon spawn is the only exception to that statement.

Anadil was won over by how he didn't cry and even 'said' how her rats were cute.

Hester, however, only warmed up to him when she spent a longer time with him, and after getting a chance to watch him because Aunt Sophie kept stepping in.

On one such occasion, where Anthony was surprised by Hester's watching him, the boy was overjoyed to see her, hugging her closely. He then backed up and stepped back, giving her a wave and smile. As she understood his silence better than Sophie, Hester wrote to him on a paper, 'Did you miss me THAT much?' Anthony nodded and wrote back, 'Yes!'

Sophie is not a helicopter aunt, but she loves Anthony a bit too much for his liking.

She NEVER talks about how she'd been hoping he was a girl.

Anthony isn't a fan of pink, but he doesn't hate it. Pastel is fine. Anything more vibrant makes him puke.

Both Tedros and Agatha were surprised to see how good Anthony was on horse back.

Heart attack angst moment: A former supporter of Rhian and Japeth snuck into the castle and made an assassination attempt on the royal family, more specifically Anthony. Tedros threw his son behind him and drew hus sword and Agatha shot a spell at him and proceeded to tackle him to the ground, not caring about her dress or the fact that the assailant was still armed.

Anthony colud not watch the execution because he hates bloodshed. He's a vegetarian/vegan and tries to eat as little meat as possible because he often spends time in the stables and around animals.

Agatha and Tedros are aware of this and are okay with it, though Tedros has him eat a single steak for dinner and teo eggs for breakfast once a month on seperate occasions, just so he doesn't lack any iron or protein.

To clarify, by separate occasions, I mean that Anthony will eat the steak one day and the eggs later another day within the month. After that, he can indulge in as much vegan/vegetarian food as he wants.

Have fun trying to convince Tedros and Agatha to let him attend the SGE; it's not that they have unpleasant memories, they just want him to try and have as normal of a life as possible.

On a walk, and when the Tagatha child was a teen, Tedros noticed some girls trying to flirt with Anthony and that his son barely reciprocated their actions. He pointed out that they were showing an interest in him, and Anthony admitted that he knew and he just didn't really feel the same way; he didn't exactly see why they were so flirty when he didn't feel like giving it back to them.

NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS(The triplets I'm naming Jacob, the eldest boy, Luna, the middle girl, and Daemon, the youngest boy):

Jacob is 98% the triplets' father; he'd be a spitting image if it weren't for his mop of hair, he's sharp as a whip, but still puts the E in idiot(please tell me you git that Jenna Marbles reference!!!).

Luna is arguably the smartest, but good luck getting a, 'you don't say' out of her. She won't tell you she's smarter than you, she will show you. Good thing Jack and Sally keep her in check.

Daemon is the family's "underdog." He has the last minute, 'this will work,' Jack Sparrow plans. He's quiet, he sews, he sings, and if he's not trailing behind Jack, Sally, or his siblings, he's probably touching up his clothes.

Jacob was the idiot kid that got electrocuted to the point his red hair turned black. He barely remembers it, but now all he tastes is cold peanut butter. Daemon has often suggested and offered to do it again, but Luna stops him. Pro: he's spending more time with Luna and Jacob is safe. Con: he's spending time with LUNA and Jacob still doesn't remember.

Jacob, as the oldest, attends 'meetings' with Jack and the Mayor. It doesn't bore him, he just gets tired of the Mayor's whining.

Jacob doesn't get Christmas. Luna has the basic idea of it. Daemon is the only one that understands, but doesn't explain it fully out of spite; Jacob called him scatter brained because of an incident where, at the table, a cockroach crawled out of his eye socket.

Daemon is the only one of his siblings to have eyes.

Even though she's literal bone, Luna has stitches that are very close to Sally's.

Neither Jack nor Sally have nicknames for the children, besides terms of endearment.

You know you're in trouble when Jack looks at you and looks ready to dig your grave himself.

All three triplets have Jack's fire power, but no one's gotten hurt because of it, even though Jacob and Daemon had one close call.

Neither parent would ever even dream of raising a hand against the children.

It's safe to say that Luna and Sally use common sense the most out of all five of the family members.

Daemon smells like pumpkin and cinnamon. He finds both himself, cinnamon bark and small, apple-esque pumpkins, and eats them like skittles and popcorn.

Another result of the electrocution, Jacob is hard of hearing where is left ear would be, if he had ears. He can't hear at all in the "ear." Not even a ringing sound.

The only reason Jacob doesn't like something is because he doesn't get it. At all.

Luna sees the glass as half full, Daemon sees the glass as half empty, and wonder if it belongs to someone who drank out of said glass, hence its being hald empty, and Jacob just sees a glass of water, now can he just drink the rest?

Luna, the best with herbs, has poisoned her brothers. Sally found out and she was grounded.

Daemon, to see how much he could take, dived off the roof of Dr. Finkelstein's tower. It took Jack, Sally, Luna, Jacob, and Zero all day to collect all of him. He was grounded and locked in his room.

Jacob got grounded for a few things: setting his sister on fire(no one knows who started that fight.), hiding in a morgue to scare people only to end up falling asleep, even as they tried to cremate him, and then waking up in front of the humans, pretending to be one of the hanging men on The Hanging Tree, and dancing on top of the tallest Pyramid in Egypt.

The children do misbehave sometimes, but their parents love them.

Jack and Jacob don't see eye to eye exactly, but they still get each other.

Luna loves both her brothers, but she will hang out with Daemon more than Jacob.

Daemon has a lot of glow sticks he collected and they all still glow when it gets dark. Jacob used his thinking cap and had a moment of big brain time, and drank some of the glow stick juice.

One more thing he got in trouble for.

Daemon also got in trouble, but he was allowed to keep his glow sticks.

Luna is a good singer, Daemon is a great dancer, and Jacob is the best at succeeding their father

[pathetic-has-been-rockstar]

Finding Warmth

Pairing: Crowely x reader

Written for: @spnchristmasbingo​

Square filled: sharing a bed

Warnings: none

Summary:  Chuck is gone, Amara is in charge, and the world is finally free. You're heading to the bunker for the first proper Christmas celebration with Team Free Will, but you're forced to stop along the way. When the former King of Hell shows up, you manage to surprise him, and discover a new side of the demon.

Words: 2644

Beta: @raspberrymama​

my work can be found on AO3, here! If you’re interested in the whole series, you just have to click here!

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The road to the bunker is pretty long, and the radio doesn't bring reassuring news. Apparently, there's a snow storm raging somewhere, and the roads aren't going to be open for long.

With a sigh, you peek at your car's clock. It's well past nine, and you're hungry and tired, so you decide to pull over at the first motel sign you see. You book a room, head to the gas station next to the motel and buy a couple of sandwiches, a cupcake and a couple of soft drinks. You're in the mood for some beer, but you're tired enough as it is.

Walking back to your room, you make a call.

“Hey there, Dean!”

“Kid! We were starting to worry. Where are you?” You smile at the concern in his voice. Since Chuck is gone and things have changed, he became almost overprotective in regards to his little found family.

“Still a state over. Snow storm raging, closed lanes. I've managed to snatch the last room in a motel, tomorrow morning things should be better.”

“Crap. I'm sorry. Anything we can do?”

“Nah, don't worry. I'll have some food and hit the bed, it's been a hell of a drive so far”, you quietly thank yourself for being reasonable and driving something maybe less fascinating but definitely more comfortable than the Impala. Dean's voice brings you back shortly.

“Take some rest and stay safe, ok? We'll check in tomorrow, but you keep us updated”.

“Won't miss. Night guys.”

You quickly hang up and walk in your room. It's pretty cold, close to the road, and the bed doesn't look really comfortable, but it still beats the idea of sleeping on some shoulder of the road.

Once you're done with your dinner, you try to turn on the tv, but it doesn't work, just like the heating, apparently. Bored and slightly frustrated, you make yourself a cup of tea using the courtesy set, then pick up your phone and send a text.

A moment later, a familiar British accent rings behind you.

“Hello, darling.”

You turn around in your chair, smiling at the king of Hell. As usual, he's clad in black, looking both impeccable and mildly bored.

“Hello, Crowley. How are you?”

“I'm curious, actually. How can I help my favourite non-hunter on this fair night?”

The day he won't tease you about the fact that you still refuse to label yourself as a hunter will be the day Hell freezes over, probably. You laugh it off, and make your request, hoping he's in a good mood.

“Do you have a way to bring me to the bunker that's not through a snowstorm?”

He tilts his head, looking at you.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I need to get to the bunker, but the snow...”

“Do I look like a bloody taxi service to you?”

Alright, he's not in a good mood. You shake your head, feeling the tiredness of the day washing over you, and you shift a bit in the chair.

“You don't have enough juice anymore, do you?”

He gives you a cold glance, and doesn't even bother denying. He pulls up a chair and sits, stretching his legs under the table and looking at you.

“Why are you in a rush to get there, anyway? As far as I know, the Wonder Brothers are on holiday break.”

“Yes, they are. I'm part of that break.”

He looks surprised, then he pouts for a second before talking, like he does when something doesn't go the way he wants.

“Of course you are. Well... since you summoned me for a stupid request, I'll take advantage of it. Which means... I'm staying here.”

You choke a little at the idea. You're not going to complain about spending a night with him, but the idea of doing it like that, without anything to steal, hunt, or kill just feels a bit weird. It's also the first time that you two spend time together alone after the whole Chuck affair and his return from the Empty.

“The whole night?”

He nods, eyeing the bed with a smirk you know too well.

“You fear we'll run out of things to do, love?”

“Oh, please. It's freezing in here.”

“One more reason to take advantage of the bearer of Hellfire, love.”

You laugh off his swagger and take it for what it is: the very essence of Crowley, and a clear attempt to play his favourite game of making people uncomfortable. Then, you remember something.

“Yeah, sure. Hang on, I gotta pick up something from my car.”

You grab the keys of your car and rush out of the room, leaving a very bemused Crowley behind you.

That's not how he was expecting a nightly summoning to go... nor what he was hoping for. You don't seem particularly interested in replaying that only night in which you fell between his arms, but that doesn't mean he won't play his cards to get there.

He walks to the table and picks up the cup of what looks like tea, but smells like chemicals and bad food colouring, until he hears you stepping back in the room and closing the door behind you.

“Here.”

Crowley raises his nose from your cup of “tea”, which he was curiously smelling, and looks at you with a confused expression.

“... what... what’s that?”

“A box. Inside it, there’s a thing I’d like you to have on my behalf. It’s called a present, or gift. Mortals do this thing of exchanging them at Christmas. Remember that?”

“... you got me a present. A... a Christmas present.”

“Yeah.”

“You... got the King of Hell a Christmas present.”

“Former king of Hell, last time I checked. If you don’t want it I can always take it back, you know.”

Setting the cup back on the counter, Crowley’s stare shifts from your hands holding the box to your face, studying your features. You seem good willed enough.

“I didn’t say that”, he mumbles.

“Well, take it, then. Careful, it’s fragile.”

Crowley finally takes the box from you, brushing your fingers with his ones in doing so, and noticing the slight pink tingeing your cheeks for a moment.

The box is wrapped in brown paper, but you drew a geometric pattern on it, snowflakes-shaped. Then, watching more carefully, Crowley sees a pitchfork here and there in the middle of the snowflakes, and he smiles. You really put some effort in that, and you're glad he seems to appreciate it.

“You surely do have a certain sense of humour, kitten.”

“There’s not a single good enough reason to be dull”, you brush off his compliment, but it surely flatters you.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

With a snap of his fingers, the wrapping paper opens without tearing, making you smile. You stand, awkward, and watch Crowley carefully examining the wooden box in his hands, until he sees the name branded on it. Immediately, he grins. You certainly know him.

“Kitten, of all the surprising things you could have done, this goes easily up in the top ten.”

“I am surprising, after all.”

You shrug, awkward. You're happy that he liked the present, but you keep hoping that he won’t ask you the most obvious question, the one whirring through your mind since you decided to give him one bottle of the finest whisky in the world.

“Indeed. Just... why?”

“One of my clients saw a bottle you left at the store and asked me if I was interested in whisky. I treat him pretty well, so he sent me a couple of these, and I thought you might like it.”

“That's not what I asked.”

“It's just... tradition, you know?”

Crowley shakes his head, carefully setting the bottle on the table of the motel. You both are well aware that what you gave him is rare, coveted, and incredibly expensive. It surely is not a token exchanged to respect a tradition.

“No, it's not. And you put me in a difficult position, now. I haven't gotten you anything.”

You smile, a bit disappointed by the fact that he deemed that present as a formality.

“It's fine, actually. You must be terrible with presents.”

“Pardon?”

“Of course. You were a king, used to being revered and obeyed... when was the last time you gave someone a present, just because you felt like doing it? And don't mention paying Dean's bar tabs, that doesn't count. It must be something you picked out, not a deal.”

Crowley thinks about it for a second, then scoffs. You got him, and yet he's not particularly bothered. There's something in the way you tease him that he really likes. Perhaps it's because you're not scared of him, or maybe because you don't seem conflicted about him. No awkward shuffling and senseless musings about right or wrong. Even after your night together, you simply moved on, like you would have done with any other one-time lover... even if perhaps he didn't exactly appreciate that.

“Alright, kitten, you got me. But I'm sure that, if I had a chance, I could certainly surprise you with a nice present”.

“Ah, now. I gave you something... it's already impossible to be spontaneous.”

“I don't think this game has fair rules.”

You laugh and relax on the uncomfortable chair. “Of course it doesn't. Christmas is a very tactical time of the year. If I surprise you with a present, you will be forced to be nice to me until next Christmas. I'm an evil genius in a very hot body.”

He laughs, his eyes roaming your forms.

“While I can definitely see that... I'm sorry, love, but you lack conviction.”

“Meaning what?”

“I am quite the epitome of the villain... and that speech lacks the necessary emphasis to be believable. In fact, I think you like Christmas quite a lot, and you took real pleasure in giving me something.”

“I've never been so insulted in my life!” you mock him, making him laugh. You've always taken a certain pride in being the one able to make Crowley genuinely laugh, and his humour is one of the things you appreciate most of him.

He snaps his fingers and conjures two crystal glasses from thin air. They're made of crystal, finely etched, and you recognize them as a part of his personal collection, one you've often seen in his hand. He gives you a questioning look.

“... what is it, your highness?”

“I was wondering how upset you'd be if I were to share my present with you.”

You think about it for a second, then solemnly look back at him.

“You know... I think a quality check is in order.”

“Just what I thought. Let's see if mister Gordon and mister MacPhail have honoured fifty years of ageing.”

When Crowley pours you your whisky, you immediately take a deep breath of it, studying the articulate aroma. You rarely had the chance of drinking something this old, and you're always curious about it.

The first note is sweet, like apple and honey, followed by a hint of smoke, and that promise is kept when, after a proper toast with your favourite demon, you indulge your dram. The sweet and thick taste is balanced by a sour note, and it leaves a peaty finish on your tongue. After the first few sips, it's already going to your head, and you lick your lips. The smoky finish reminds you of something similar, far more tempting.

Something that's currently sitting in front of you, telling of a deal he made with the owner of a distillery in the Speyside, a couple of centuries ago. You try to engage in conversation, at first, but time flies, the bottle empties more and more, and pretty soon you're half asleep.

You almost miss his laughter when he stands up and places his hands on your shoulders, helping you up on your feet. You protest weakly, closing your eyes.

“Come on, kitten. Let's get you to bed.”

“... no... I don't want to, it's cold...”

“I'll see to it. Do you trust me?”

The warm voice purring to your ear is a dream, a promise of comfort and warmth that you’re not willing to give up, but you also know you’re not supposed to indulge.

“... I shouldn't...”

“But do you?”

You drop your head on his shoulder, rubbing your face against the fabric of his suits while you nod.

“... yes.”

“And thanks to Christmas magic, this time you won't pay for this mistake.”

Crowley laughs next to your ear while he effortlessly carries you to bed. With a snap of his fingers he takes off your shoes and clothes, substituting them with a comfortable flannel pyjama.

You curl up under the thin sheets, shivering in the cold bed, and close your eyes, trying to relax. You hear another snap of fingers and you feel Crowley slipping in the sheets behind you, wrapping you in a warm embrace.

You'd like to protest, but he's too warm, and you're tired. All you manage to do is let out a muffled sound, before snuggling closer to him and falling asleep right away. You enjoy the best night of sleep you had in months.

The following morning, you open your eyes and, for a second, you don't see anything. It takes you a moment to realize that you must have turned in your sleep, and your face is now pressed against Crowley's chest. One of your arms is folded between you, while the other is draped on his side. You pull back, suddenly awkward, making him laugh. Your breath hitches imperceptibly when you feel the soft rumble shaking his chest, but you hope he didn't notice.

“Morning, love.”

“I... hi. How... how are we... did we...”

Crowley runs a hand through your hair, pulling them away from your face. “We shared the only bed, yes. I think we could have done something more interesting, but you were drunk, and quite exhausted.”

“I wasn't drunk, just... never mind. What time is it?”

“Barely 9. We still have plenty of time to get to the bunker.”

“... we?”

The kiss on your forehead is so light that you wonder if you imagined the light prickle of his beard on your skin, but Crowley lingers there for a moment before answering your question.

“You surely need a copilot to get there in one piece, and you can't die while you're one up on me.”

You finally chuckle and slowly, very slowly, you disentangle yourself from Crowley. One of his hands moves on your side, and his fingers sink in the fabric covering your skin. The shiver running down your back has very little to do with the room temperature.

“... alright, you can come with me, then. Let me just take a shower and...”

“No rush, love. Actually, why don't we...”

Your phone buzzing furiously on the nightstand interrupts Crowley. You give him an apologizing look, then grab your phone and pick the call, groaning.

“Yeah?... yes, Dean, I... alright, sure. Thanks. I'll get going”. You hang up and turn to Crowley, blushing. “He... he heard that the roads are open, but the weather cast says it's snowing again this afternoon. We'd better get on the road.”

Before he can say anything, you stand up, grab your bag and walk into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. On the good side, you're so confused and excited that you barely notice the cold. On the bad side, you're so confused and excited that you almost try to use your mouthwash as skin tonic.

Crowley , still lying on the bed, smirks at the stained ceiling. He's seen how nervous you are around him, and he congratulates himself on his decision to come with you at the bunker. He's never been a fan of holidays, but it looks like things might change soon.

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Thank you for reading! I truly hope you enjoyed this little story. Every kind of feedback is very much appreciated, just as much as likes and reblogs!

Please, do not repost my works or part/s of it on different places, not even if you give credits.

[sparda3g]

Black Clover Chapter 225 Review

At last, it’s time to enter the Heart Kingdom, but it won’t be a smooth sailing. With the Princess set her target on Asta’s Demon, trouble is just around the corner. In this series’ fashion, this chapter wasted no time to escalate danger. Some welcoming party this turned out to be.

It’s refreshing to see a new landscape, let alone a kingdom, after years at Clover Kingdom at war. Tabata is pretty good at illustrating a new location with soothing atmosphere and an appealing sightseeing. When it comes to a tour, it cannot be done without a tour guide. Enter Gaja, the Director of Spirit, and as Noelle puts it, he’s a real big shot. With that title, I could believe it, though later scene, it will seal it. He does remember Mimosa, calling her the most popular of the cultural exchange students back then. I wonder if her brother was considered the worst.

The world building begins with the crimson orange juice. Its sweetness will be enhanced when mana is flowed. That’s a juice I would like to try. I find it funny how this means Asta is screwed due to lack of one, so lucky for him, Noelle is there to save his life. The river literally uplifts itself for the boat to continue sailing. It looks pretty neat the way how it was drawn, enhancing the delighting nature. What’s impressive is all of it is done by the Princess’ magic, or to be exact, her mana zone.

As stated in the previous chapter, she can cover the entire kingdom. It’s worth mentioning that the cast never see the Wizard King in action. Asta did with Julius but not in his true form. Hilariously, Asta is blown away by the detail, the sight, and the juice of Heart Kingdom. That must be some amazing drink. It does give an impression that the kingdom has no desired to be evil or join a war of any sorts, yet it has a Devil or curse magic lurking within.

The most important detail is the history involving with the Water Spirit. The kingdom was founded 1,200 years ago and for generations, the Queens devoted their life to the Water Spirit, so they can protect their lands with its water magic. Ever since then, the people developed and flourished its nature to keep away the uninvited strangers from entering their mana-rich lands.

This would explain the reason why the landscape appears the way it does. It has that utopia feel sort of way, and that means suspiciousness. Nothing is completely peaceful without conspiracy. It would also explain the previous chapter with the Water Spirit hovering behind the Princess. I assume this means Noelle can’t obtain it, but maybe it can serve her as a development in power. Everything sounds delighting and incredible with the Princess protecting her people alone. Then, everything changes when Gaja attacks.

In this series’ fashion, the pacing doesn’t wait a while for the action to kick off. It’s not a bad thing, though I would like to explore more before entering the trouble. Regardless, it does pump me up for some intriguing development. Before the action, Gaja’s words can be read as cryptic. He explained the history as it appears the kingdom will forever remain “peaceful,” but then ends with uncertainty. The Princess wants Asta’s Demon, but what for? More power? Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of the Water Spirit? Unless it wants that power? Is it fueled by curse magic? It’s interesting to say the least.

Asta gets water prisoned and send straight to the Princess’ location, but not without Noelle, Mimosa, and Finral pursuing to save him. In this series’ fashion, the teamwork is always a treat to see and this is no exception. Noelle and Mimosa go for a jump with enhanced magic and Finral uses his Spatial Magic to give them a huge boost to reach to Asta. It’s cool and all, but that’s when Gaja proceed to glitch the system.

In no time, he catches up with them and apparently, he can fly without using magic. Noelle isn’t going to stop there, unleashing the Valkyrie Dress in all of her glory. It’s so cool, it has Finral going crazy for her. Sadly, this continue to defeat his development in which saddens me. I’m really pulling for him and he knows this is not going to be easy. On the other hand, this is serving to be his running gag on stop betraying his love for Finesse. All the best wishes for him.

Speaking of best wishes, Gaja gets serious and start using his Grimoire in which shoots outs scripts. I don’t know what the deal with his magic is, but something is odd. I don’t get why he can fly without magic. I don’t know if it’s his Grimoire exclusive or there’s something “unnatural” about him. He is associated with the Princess and we don’t know what her deal is. I got a bad feeling about this and hopefully, Noelle doesn’t get soundly defeated. If so, she definitely won’t be ready to take on Megicula.

The chapter ends with two cliffhangers. One is with Noelle going against Gaja, who seems to have an unnatural magic, and the other is Asta confronting the Princess or whoever is in that armor. This series waste no time at all, but it does escalate my interest. With all the hype on the Princess, Asta will surely lose badly. Granted, he does wield Anti-Magic weapons, so it does favor him, though the fact she’s going physical, it appears she’s fully aware. That’s not good, but the panel is.

This was a pretty good chapter. The artwork gave me a soothing feeling and its lore was intriguing. It was a fun exploration, especially that so-called incredible juice, though mana is required. The action didn’t wait, so while it’s a bummer for exploration to end soon, it did intensify the arc with rapid developments. Although we learned the kingdom’s history and its landscape, the mystery remains. The two battles should be interesting albeit potentially squash match. Wherever we go from there would lead to even more exciting development, and that I can’t wait for.

[thetygre]

30 Day Monster Challenge 2 - Day #10: Favorite Goblin/Orc

1.      Uruks

I wanna’ tell you a story, folks. It might sound a little familiar, but stick with me. Once upon a time, there was a farm-boy. A simple lad, who had high hopes for a life of adventure beyond the town. He wasn’t the brightest, but what he lacked in brains he made up for in bravery. One day, as you do, farm-boy was working out in the field with his family when a monster attacked. The local guard piled on to the monster, but they just couldn’t bring it down. It tore through soldier after soldier after soldier, just for the fun of it. Our farm-boy knew he would probably die, but he didn’t care. He had his chance and took it; he picked up a stick, ran at the monster, and brought it down. Our farm-boy became a hero.

That farm-boy’s name was Kravitz the Marked One. He was an orc slave working in the fields the first time he killed me. The warchief promoted him on the spot and gave him a set of armor. The second time he killed me they gave him a caragor to ride. The third time he was given command over a company of hunters. I got him on the fourth time, though, and recruited him to the Bright Lord’s army. I was going to make him Overlord of Nurn, and raise him up to sit at my right hand, a real rags-to-riches story. He helped me take the Overlord’s fortress, riding with me at the siege. But poor little Kravitz took a mortal wound there, one I couldn’t save him from. And as he lay there, dying in my arms, he looked and me and he said, “Remember this moment, Tark. Remember it for as long as you live.” And I always did.

There’s a lot of other stories I could tell you. About Ugakuga the Maddest One, who saved my life, or Kellec the Tree Killer who communicated only in screams, or Flug the Ghul Lover who would track a matron across Mordor just to protect her. Uruks are rambunctious, and violent. They fight with each other even if you get them on the same team. They’ll betray you at the drop of a hat for the smallest slight. They pick fights with warriors and monsters that can kill them in one hit just to make a point.

But when they’re your own, you love them.

2.      Greenskins

The greenskins are the puncline to the grimdark joke that is Warhammer. While they’re in both the fantasy and 40k settings, they really stand out in 40k. Warhammer fantasy still has halflings, dwarves, and typical fantasy shenanigans to pick up the slack; 40k NEEDS some comic relief. The Orks aren’t concerned about empires or Chaos or the greater good. The Orks, pure and simple, are in it for the fun. They’re work is at its finest when its fast, loud, and in flames. Put together, they can generate a kind of psychic field that makes their beliefs a reality. This power is not used to reshape the fabric of the cosmos, but to enforce much more important principles like ‘things go faster when they have flames painted on. In the grim darkness, the orks are a pie to the face filled with C4.

3.      Order of the Stick

The goblins in Order of the Stick are kind of different from how they’re commonly depicted, but not too unrecognizable. They’re a monster race, living in the wilderness, trying to eke out a living, though they’re a bit taller and smarter than standard goblins, about on par with humans. But the thing that makes them stand out is Redcloak, and Redcloak is pretty great, both as an antagonist and a character in his own right. Redcloak has made decisions, bad decisions, decisions that he could have not made but he did because he felt he had to. And it’s interesting to watch him now, filled with regret, committed to this course, and wondering what will happen next.

4.      Nyambe

Nyambe-Tanda was an African campaign setting for 3rd. Edition D&D that not a lot of people remember. They should, because it was pretty great, both at representing an underexplored area of fantasy and also for its own setting features. Somehow, it blended West African mythology and post-modern tabletop fantasy masterfully. One of the best examples is its orcs.

You’ve got your standard narrative; at the beginning of time, there were the various races, and each of the gods favored one race over the others. Originally, the gods only divulged so much to the races because they wanted to keep things fair. But the orcs were having a hard time of it, living in badlands and scrounging for food. So their god, Ogun, the god of war, decided to give them a little boost. He made them stronger, faster, tougher than other races. But Ogun wasn’t just the god of battle; he was the god of blacksmithing. So the orcs of Nyambe learned how to mine and forge metal while the other races were still wearing leaves and furs. And by the time the other races figured out bronze, the orcs had iron.

From there, things went about as well as you would expect. The orcs swarmed out, conquering the continent one region at a time. The other races barely had metal, much less iron; any resistance was like bring a stick to a gun fight. Even after Ogun withdrew his patronage from the orcs, they turned to worshipping dark gods and demons, adding sorcery to their arsenal. The orcs set up a dark empire across Nyambe-Tanda, and it took nothing less than an alliance between all the races, the dragons, and God to stop them. The dumb orcs of Nyambe today are the cursed remnants of that empire, and their demon-haunted ruins still litter the continent.

Just think about all that. Look at how much the orcs did in this setting. And they did it for themselves; not for any god or Dark Lord, but because they wanted to. The Evil Empire that the plucky last-ditch rebellion had to stop didn’t use orcs; it was MADE by them. They fundamentally shaped the setting. In Nyambe, orcs are legendary and feared. Even the few remaining half-orcs are watched closely and with fear, looking out for any sign that the old powers might return. And that’s just such a massive departure from the norms of fantasy while still staying true to certain elements; I love it.

5.      Pathfinder

Pathfinder’s goblins are clearly descended from Warhammer’s; cheerful, incorrigible pyromaniacs who enjoy arson, butchery, and singing adorable little songs about how much they hate horses. Even their designs are cute; oversized head, constant grins, beady little eyes, big flappy ears, and a shark-like nose make them look more like gangrene bats than monsters. When Pathfinder was first released, it was decided by the Paizo team that they wanted their monsters to stand apart from the standard D&D variants of monsters, remaining true to certain aspects while inventing new ones. Goblins were the first example, and are still the most beloved. They became mascots of the system, and even a playable race. So much malevolent charm has been poured into Pathfinder’s goblins that you feel almost bad for killing them. You’ll have to though, because they really don’t feel bad about killing you and then burning your house down.

6.      Eberron

Eberron orcs are another attempt to experiment with the standard formula, seeing what can be retained and what can be changed. An orc on Eberron can still be a wild berserker, but they’re more likely to stick to one of the villages they live in as a farmer. Orcs in Eberron are the oldest species on the planet, predating humans and all the other races. It gives them this kind of grouchy veteran persona that pervades the whole race, and they tend to look down on the younger peoples. Eberron orcs are also a lot more spiritual, trying to live in tune with the land and spirits. It was the orcs’ druids that saved the world from extradimensional horrors long ago, and most of them stick to that tradition. They don’t want any praise or to be raised up as heroes, though. They mostly just want the young races to listen to them when they say important things like, “Don’t poke the fabric of reality” and “Don’t trust elves” and “No, ma’am, I would not care to do that with you.”

7.      Warcraft

It was inevitable that Warcraft orcs would be on here. There’s no escaping them; by now they’re probably more popular than Tolkien orcs. They actually have a fairly complex history and lore; addicted to demon juice, tricked by an evil shaman, warring with the goat-people. Thrall is still the coolest shaman in anything ever, even if it is kind of hard not to just call him ‘orc Moses’. Even their explanation for the green skin is cool; an eternal curse for drinking demon blood in wars past. Honestly, though, I loved the orcs best in Warlords of Draenor. The Iron Horde is what elevated the orcs from ‘kind of cool’ to full-on ‘Metal’. It was a shame to see them go, but that’s just how it is.

8.      Rankin Bass

My first orcs. I watched the Rankin Bass Hobbit films when I was a kid, so these were the first time I met goblins who didn’t come out of a fairy tale. They were scary more than cool, but they also had a kind of dorky charm to them. The original Hobbit goblins with their gaping mouths and giant fangs are still a classic. They seem like perfect fairy tale monsters to me, and fit right in to the Hobbit’s original tone. Also got to love those classic goblin hits like ‘Funny Little Things’. The orcs in Return of the King had way more variety in shape, and there was even some blurring between them and the trolls, but no particular design stuck with me. You know what did stick with me? The best damn song in the entire world, that’s what.

9.      The Wolverines

Stan Nicholls’ Orcs series is more in the vein of the Black Company or the Golden Age of Berserk than it is any other kind of orc story. It follows the exploits of a mercenary band of orcs while they traipse around first one fantasy world, then more. By the second trilogy, they’re freedom fighters for orc supremacy on whatever world they can find them. All the while, they never stop being just unapologetically bastards. You get a feel for the commanders and the soldiers, while taking in that whole mercenary life pastiche. Not anything groundbreaking yet, but still a good band.

10.   Goblin Slayer

Credit where credit is due, Goblin Slayer tries its damnedest to take goblins and make them horrific, intimidating monsters. Does it succeed? Ehhhhh... I don’t want to keep saying ‘Berserk did it better’, but it really is hard not to compare the goblins to the trolls from Berserk. Still, there’s stuff to applaud here. These are some nasty goblins, even in terms of design, with jagged shark teeth and dead frog eyes. If nothing else, it’s interesting to see the kind of hierarchy usually reserved for higher-powered monsters like dragons and demons given to the ‘cannon-fodder’.

[spirit-science-blog]

Is it just me...or is there a distinct lack of great staple Halloween-holiday movies? I mean, sure, we have stuff like Hocus Pocus or the creepy cacophony of horror movies like the Exorcist or the Conjuring to watch while hiding under our blankets and stuffing our faces with candy… I mean… Grapes, and other healthy snacks… But what’s the Spooktober equivalent of A Christmas Carol or It’s a Wonderful Life? ….CUE the Pumpkin King. Ack, but even then, it’s like… this is more of a November movie. What with it being like a smashup betwixt Halloween and Christmas? Anyways, I’m a sucker for Tim Burton and the music of Danny Elfman. When you combine it with Christmas cheer and Halloween gothic macabre, you get one of the most ambitious crossovers since I mixed my orange and apple juice that one time. A Nightmare Before Christmas isn’t just a holiday favorite. It’s a stop motion masterpiece filled with spiritual lore and depth that speaks to Dharma's Vedic concepts, self-love, and coming to terms with your highest and authentic self. So… since covid is coming in for another wave while Biden miraculously comes out with a vaccine the day he’s elected, let’s have a mashup of our own by mixing last month and next month's holidays into the present moment and jump into some spirituality!

So look, this movie is a legend, and it also came out in 1993 - so we’re going to skip the summation and jump straight into the hidden meaning. If you haven’t seen it yet, well, you’re nearly 30 years late to the party, but here's your obligatory spoiler warning.

Subtly echoed in the overall narrative of this film is the Indo-Tibetan concept of Dharma. The wide-ranging belief that every organism has a role to play in a well-ordered cosmos and must play that role and no other, including our duties, rights, laws, conduct, virtues, and "right way of living." Throughout the film, Jack discovers that as wonderful a thing as Christmas is, it is not his thing. He isn’t good at it. It’s not something in accordance with his natural flow... But more importantly, there’s an idea that he can’t give up who he is for who he wants to be. He’s confronted with the fact that he has to discover the inherent value of who he is instead of trying to be something else just because it’s apparently “good” or better.

This may be one of the most powerful truths of this movie. The fact that something is a good thing–whether it is Christmas, a loving nature, or pretty much anything else–doesn’t mean that it is the only good thing. Adding to this is the idea that other things that strike us as scary or deeply uncomfortable can be good too, and this idea is mirrored in the sets. One could argue that Halloweentown and its inhabitants represent the darker or shadow aspects of ourselves, the parts of our being that are seemingly negative and often “scary” to us. Conversely, Christmastown is reminiscent of all the beneficial elements. Much like Yin and Yang, the two towns act as reflections of each other, helping to balance the world they’re in.

When these holidays interact with our world, we embrace them in their appropriate set and setting. But it’s when people expect Christmas and get Halloween that things go haywire… perhaps if each town represents our inner natures, there’s an idea we can take from this about how when our light side and dark side cross into each other, they can cause us some confusion and chaos. Yet, in the end, it’s through that interaction that we grow and learn, and these aspects augment their original power and balance. They learn about each other, discover ways to coexist peacefully, each part of ourselves respecting the other, and their part of the whole.

The challenge arises when Jack feels he’s mastered Halloweentown, his current domain. It’s not just boredom he’s feeling...if you listen to his lament at the beginning, his sentiment echoes one I’m sure most of us on a spiritual path have thought at some point, a yearning for something more significant than the world he’s currently in. His rendition of “Oh, somewhere deep inside of these bones, an emptiness began to grow, there’s something out there, far from home, a longing that I’ve never known��� is reminiscent of C.S Lewis’ Mere Christianity “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another one.”

What’s funny is that Jack is basically like a king in his domain. He’s got it all, he’s the boss of Halloween, but all the acclaim and vindication he gets feels hollow in comparison to his inner search for meaning. Ultimately, his inner knowing that something greater is out there isn’t one that material pleasure can satisfy; it’s spiritual. Something that is seemingly echoed in his little song when he reaches Christmastown, his own Hall of Amenti..he states, “And in my bones, I feel a warmth that’s coming from inside...This empty place inside of me is filling up”.

When Jack finds Christmastown, he is fascinated with this new world's innocence and solace and recognizes that this is what he was being called to experience….Something that is interestingly reminiscent of many people’s first Astral Travel experiences. Funnily enough, his first approach is to study it scientifically and lock himself away in his tower, to find the “Christmas feeling” inside objects. Much like trying to find a feeling or aspect of consciousness within the brain, this approach fails. It points to how the mechanistic approach to the psyche has been unsuccessful in explaining the phenomena arising from brain region correlations. Jack sings, "But what does it all mean?” as he tries to understand an experience, not a thing. And yet, ironically, he’s studying *things* trying to find meaning. He ultimately concludes that "just because I cannot see it doesn't mean I can't believe it."

After Santa is kidnapped, that’s when things start to go down hill...and interestingly, Sally, the rag doll woman who is crushing on Jack, actually has a vision that it’s all going to go wrong. Still, Jack is so blinded by his lust for new experiences that he ignores her. Wait a minute...the dichotomy between action and vision...masculine and feminine...feeling vs. action...sigh...this whole Sacred Masculine/Divine feminine thing is getting easier to spot.

Sally embodies the feminine quite well; she’s wise, understanding, loving, intuitive, and even seemingly taps into the Source to see a future outcome. She loves Jack even before his failed Christmas fiasco, but is primarily locked away -symbolically and physically later on by Oogie Boogie, and also goes often ignored, but is a figure who is ultimately a guiding force and can see the higher perspective of things. Yep, she checks all the boxes for how the divine feminine has appeared in our world… Jack, her counterpart who embodies the Sacred Masculine, and maybe a bit of the King archetype at times - is a leader, has direction, and takes action and initiative. He takes care of his people, and his people help him follow his dreams… No matter how misguided. Albeit, as we explored, he can be stubborn, and when the two can’t work together or largely ignore each other, the natural order is upset, and things descend into Chaos.

And I mean proper Chaos… worldwide panic erupts as children encounter their scary presents, and the armies of the world shoot Jack and his sleigh out of the sky...he’s immortal though, so it’s no biggie. But as he falls into the arms of a Graveyard Angel. This probably signifies his spiritual death pending rebirth as his plans failed and he must evolve his consciousness to move forward; as soon after, he finally sees his blindness, coming to the understanding that he is meant to be the Pumpkin King and will carry out that role even better next year. After Jack’s failed attempt to do Christmas himself, both towns come to appreciate their differences and the good things each holiday has to offer. Jack’s attempts at Christmas were directed mainly toward the symbols and visible elements of the holiday. When he got around to pursuing the real, more profound meaning of it, his search was utterly clouded by his selfishness and perspective of trying to incorporate what he was already familiar with…

In a way, it is kind of like religious syncretism. Jack tries to practice Christmas and Halloween simultaneously. Doing so stays loyal to neither, showing us the dangers of artificially trying to combine cultures and beliefs without fully understanding them both... Despite his endeavor's colossal failure, Jack still sees the value of having experienced everything and regrets nothing. He learns the lesson instead of feeling sorry for himself and dwelling in self-hatred. He is happy he tried and put himself out there, and goes into making things right, even after his mistake, seemingly coming more into alignment with his true self in the process, and eventually finds a renewed love of his role.

It’s also interesting that our hero is flawed and comes from the seemingly “dark” side of things. Even though we all love Jack, he’s an Evil Lord type...and yet, this approach serves to humanize him and his town and what they represent, allowing us to understand where the darker characters and attributes are coming from, see the light in them as well. It teaches that darkness also has some value, and those who are born playing those darker roles in life are fulfilling their role in this life on earth. The Halloweentown’s people are all pretty supportive, caring, and collaborative with each other, not traits you usually associate with monsters and demons. Maybe there’s a lesson here that even the darker aspects of ourselves can still ultimately come from a place of love if we acknowledge their purpose and role in our experience.

After Oogie is unraveled like a ball of yarn, Santa sets off to make things right but leaves the residents of Halloweentown with a parting gift...making it snow, allowing all the residents to experience that same joy that Jack felt when experiencing Christmas for the first time, which in a way fulfills Jack’s original dream of genuinely understanding Christmas.

I’m sure there’s a part of this that speaks to experiencing things to truly understand them, rather than just being told about them by someone else. As he flies away, Santa shouts "Happy Halloween!" and Jack replies by yelling "Merry Christmas!" which is pretty funny, but also serves to show that each side has become more balanced and acknowledges the role each other plays in their world.

All in all, ANBC doesn't fit as a Christmas movie in the conventional sense, but it doesn’t work as a Halloween one either, which is really what makes it so great. It’s a part of both seasons and is itself a pretty balanced movie...which is so meta, I love it. What’s very curious here is that Jack makes the mistake of thinking his calling lies somewhere else, rather than where he already is. Yet, the longing within him for something more compelled him into this search and discovery of something new, even though it wasn’t meant for him to give, it was meant for him to receive. Though his intentions are good, he misses this critical point and nearly ruins himself and the holiday he has come to love. Yet through his failure, he realizes who he is from a different perspective. Perhaps there is an idea here that sometimes we also have to fail to discover who we are….and chances are, we often come back stronger and more in alignment with our goals every time we fall. After all, what is a failure but the opportunity to start over, only wiser?

Until next time, it still kind of feels like October, but then again, this year has blended into one long continuous stream at this point, hasn’t it… So Happy Holidays for whatever season you’re in when you end up watching this video! Toodles.

[extroversive-introvert]

Addressing (and Aggressively Assaulting) Sacred vs Secular Again

PREFACE

Last month my youth ministry hosted its annual conference (my final one, perhaps ever, thanks to my migration) and on the second night had the supposedly “controversial” decision to host an afterparty with a DJ, playing EDM tunes you’d typically expect to hear at a nightclub. A lot of people have come up to me on separate occasions over the course of December and January asking for my thoughts on it. I decided to pen a 3,500+ word collegiate essay so I can redirect future enquirers to one place.

The Radio Game

I once played a “Christian or secular” game among friends in my religious circles, where a short excerpt of music is played and someone has to guess whether it’s secular or Christian music. The most accurate guesser wins. This is surprisingly easy for me. Especially radio stations. It’s easy to spot a Christian station far before any Christianese is said to confirm it.

At gut level, I find something very disingenuous about so-called Christian music. Country, pop, rock all have distinguishable sheens; the Christian variation is blander. The vocals are hot in the mix because the words are important. Much like country music, the compression style and Nashville tones are there but the delivery lacks the humanness and soul country has. You might get what I mean by fake emotion. There’s something more believable about a whispery promiscuous voice promoting drugs and sex on CHR top 40 stations over the voice that copies the style while putting Jesus lyrics to it. It’s not even the style of lyric that bothers me, but that I  don’t believe the singer is feeling the emotions that would lead to that kind of singing. It’s the same weird uncomfortable feeling when somebody belts a really loud, obviously fake laugh.

Marketing Zombies

Example, I grew up with pop punk bands like blink-182, Green Day, Linkin Park, and My Chemical Romance. The problem with Christianising is that emo music isn’t simply reducible to certain grunge tones and heavy power chords. There are emotions intrinsic to the genre that make the soul of the music. You can’t remove anger from the screaming and have it still be screamo. You can’t remove the bass-heavy pulsing and alternating tremolo tones from EDM trance music. You can’t take away the mixolydian chords and spontaneous comps and  raw organic atonalism from jazz. It’s the soul of that music, good or evil is immaterial; it’s simply the soul. So when you remove the soul from music and transplant the body parts (chord progression, instrumentation, dress, lights, look, basically everything but the soul) and parade it with more “positive, edifying” lyrics masquerading as Christian music, what you get is a musical zombie. It looks human, walks, talks, resembles humans, but isn’t. It’s a zombie without a soul, using a human body for its purposes.

This is my primary indicator every time I play the “Christian or secular” music game. I gaze into its eyes to see if it has a soul or not. It takes me no more than a few seconds. The industry is and has been broken for a long time. We call it “Christian contemporary”, but it’s not based on Christianity, but more so in marketing. Which I’ve also studied in depth.

When the foundation of the market and music you are trying to make is pretense, it’s very hard to be honest and successful. There is an unspoken assumption from most of us that we really want the people on the stage or on the book or album cover or on the radio need to have it together more than we do. Because we are messed up, we need them to be a sort of saviour and hope for us. The result of this is that it’s often the people who are really good at pretending that they have it all together that make it to the stage and the book or album cover and the radio stations. The interesting thing about massive Christian music tours is that most stages are in mainstream venues: clubs, theatres, etc...

But to me, the sad part is the empty bar each night. Even though these shows were all sold out, I would imagine that the bartenders at all those clubs were like “oh man, Christian night… that means no tips for me.” I know some promoters would buy out the bar so there wouldn’t be any liquor sales at all. I’m not saying that I wished that everybody was getting hammered at the show… but for crying out loud, buy a beer. Or heck, if you don’t drink alcohol, buy a Coke.

But here’s what’s weird about this situation. I bet you if you took all of those Christians that came to the shows and split them up and had them go to “secular” shows, A LOT of them would have bought a drink or two. It’s the fact that there is this assumption among all of the Christians there that having a drink at a Christian event is sort of a taboo thing to do. Why is this?

It’s certainly not because of the Bible. Jesus’ first miracle was turning water into wine at a wedding. And not just any wine. The kind of wine that made people think they saved the very best wine until the end. And you preachers who pervert the holy writ of Scripture with your own extremely biased interpretations, here’s a newsflash, people at parties don’t think the best wine is  your Sunday morning “non-alcoholic Ribena/grape juice”. Religious people didn’t call Jesus “a glutton and a drunkard” because He ate communion loafers and grape juice all the time.

And here’s the thing. I drink socially. Shocker. I don’t even drink very much. I’ve never been drunk in my life, and I’m not advocating that people should just be foolish with their drinking or eating habits. But for the love of my sanity, this whole spiritualising of alcohol being an inherently bad thing is bloody annoying. If I didn’t know Jesus, I’d have probably dropped an f-bomb where “bloody” would be. It’s mostly just a Western thing, by the way (as well as places where America has exported these ideas with our missionaries). If you go most other places in the world, or anywhere else in history for that matter, Christians drink alcohol. Ever heard of this thing called Communion? You know, the bread and the wine? That’s a pretty big deal in Christianity. Jesus didn’t pour out a cup of grape juice.

So Christians that would normally buy a beer don’t because they are in the Christian concert. Christian bands that smoke (more than you think, if not most, do) have to duck into back alleys as to not offend anybody. I personally think smoking is stupid. But I think it’s stupid because it smells bad and it kills you. But I don’t use my religion as a moral high horse self-righteously judge other people about it.

Rather than just being honest about where we are at and what we all struggle with though, we look to our gatekeepers to believe and live morally vicariously for us. That way we feel better about being part of the system of good, and the moral brokenness in our own lives is repressed like the fear of a child with her security blanket that is never faced down and eviscerated, which eventually develops unchecked into a more demonic stronghold in later years of adulthood. This sort of two-faced dishonesty is at the heart of much of what I and so many others find so repulsive about much of modern Christendom.

Actually, you know what the alcohol nonsense is based on? MONEY.

The traditionalists in the Baby Boomer pioneer generation are the people that give the most money to Christian organisations like religious media outlets. And these people grew up in a time where alcohol was seen as a taboo social reality. Just like dancing or playing cards or what they used to call “mixed bathing” (swimming). It’s based in an era of post-World War II prohibition. These are old American values we’re dealing with, not Christian values. It’s the old American people that have money that the Christian organisations are paranoid of offending. So they create an environment where drinking is seen as pure malice and wickedness. If you want to start a televangelist ministry or apostolic network, you can’t have it known to your donours that your staff likes to go out for drinks at the bar after work. So you implement rules for them. Do you know how common this is? Do you see the irony of this? If you had been a disciple of Jesus and drank some of the wine of His first recorded miracle with him, you would be fired from a lot of the churches in the country. Shame on us.

The point is, the way the industry labels things as Christian and sells them to you is more to do with marketing than Christianity. They market the cornucopia of historically religious, western values, and cultural boundary markers that created the sectarianism of Evangelical subculture, setting “us” apart from “them”, which makes us feel safe and righteous, while making the gatekeepers rich.

It’s also strange to me when people call those who deviate from the mainstream to stay true to their artistic integrity as “creative”. Artists like Gungor, David Crowder, or John Mark McMillan. Why do we feel it necessary to say that? Notice no one really says that about other types of music. In reviews of certainly authentically creative bands like Radiohead, Bon Iver, Sigur Ros, Bob Dylan, Owl City, Sufjan Stevens, Explosions in the Sky, Jamiroquai, rarely do you see the word “creative” pop up. No one goes to an art gallery and says, “wow that painting is so creative”. Why? Because art is intrinsically creative. Why else would it be there? Its very nature is creativity. It’s like telling me “I love your house because it’s so architectural.”

But when someone in the Christian industry takes their art seriously, everyone loses their collective shit over “how creative it is”. It’s almost like a person living among zombies for years sees an actual human being and exclaims, “look how clean his face is, there’s life for once”. It’s sad that the idea of creativity is so foreign to the Christian music industry that we have to actually point out when someone sees art as art and not zombie propaganda.

Does “Christian” music really exist?

Furthermore, one of my biggest pet peeves is the existence of so-called “Christian music”. Why do we call it that? Music can’t be “saved”. When I hear those songs, it’s not like I can give an altar call for the songs to walk to the front and receive Christ, then baptise them in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and partake of communion together with them before I listened to them. Why is Christianity the only religion that has their music segregated by faith rather than genre? Why is it that every time I go to the iTunes store, I don’t see a Muslim section, a Buddhist section, an atheist section, an agnostic section? I can’t be the only one who finds it weird that all music is genre-divided, except for Christian music, which is separated by religious worldview.

I formally indict both Christian and non-Christians: on Christians because we like to retreat into our own subculture, and non-Christians because Jesus followers don’t have a voice in the industry at large.

The whole secular-sacred bullshit (yes, I said bullshit and I’ll say it again. Bullshit. Fight me.)  came from Greek philosophy, which distinguishes things of the body as evil and things of the spirit as important. God never made things to be inherently evil. He didn’t create everything so they’d be “Christian or not”. He created molecules and said they were “good”. It’s only when sin corrupted humanity’s genome, that the violation of our design spawned evil in this world from the tainting of our nature.

People talk about “sinning against God” by listening to and endorsing secular music. But as His image-bearers, we should reflect a proper image of the creativity of God. When we make bad things, we are reflecting a false image of God’s nature. If the Creator Himself is your dad and you have His DNA and you suck at creating, I would consider that a greater sin against God.

You are saying God’s a copycat, when He isn’t. You are saying God is cheesy, when He isn’t. You are saying God doesn’t believe in the excellence of all things, when He does. You deceive yourself.

Yeah, I went there. Fight me.

Jesus in your average Bangla worker

Why is it that art in the church traditionally is only a stained-glass portrayal of Jesus’ crucifixion? Is there no such thing as art in the Christian world outside of salvation? Can art just speak for itself as something beautiful and true and still reflect Jesus? 1 Timothy 4:4 states “For everything created by God is good and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving, for it is made holy by the word of God and prayer.” That means God should get a lot more glory for things than we are willing to give Him credit for. If we only acknowledge Him for overtly Christian things, we are glory thieves. He wants EVERYTHING. When we bite into food, it’s an opportunity to praise God for taste buds and the pleasure of the ability to eat. When we listen to good music, it’s the same for the sheer creativity of forming something from nothing, similar to the story of Creation itself. When we see His handiwork in the sky or in nature or in general, it’s the same.

Another noteworthy thing: Peter was a fisherman. Paul was a tent-maker. Jesus was a carpenter.

How strange is that? Jesus literally made things out of wood all day. He wasn’t a temple rabbi, but a wood craftsman. An average, blue-collared, 9-to-5 layman. Your average Bangla worker. How sobering the thought is of how quickly we would pass Him today if we saw Him on the street. Excepting vocations that violate Scripture (like prostitution or sorcery), most Bible-time followers of Christ retained their jobs. If a blacksmith became a Christian, he stayed a blacksmith, just a blacksmith to the glory of God.

Paul repeats it numerous times in Ephesians and Colossians, but for example’s sake in 1 Corinthians 10:31: “So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it for the glory of God.” Note that there’s no codicil that states “only if that eating or drinking is done in an outrightly Christian way like communion or after-church potlucks”. We should not consolidate God’s glory to explicitly “Christian” things, because we owe Him more praise than He is due. God gets glory for everything, and every tongue will eventually glorify God, be it through His grace or His justice.

When non-Christians speak the truth

In Acts 17 before the Areopagus council, Paul quotes pagan poets Epimenides and Aratus: “For in him we live, and move, and have our being: as certain also of your own poets have said, ‘For we are also his offspring.’” to prove his point. 

How many of you today would rebuke Paul for quoting secular philosophers instead of the Torah? Truth is truth no matter if it comes out of the mouth of a donkey, a philosopher, a newscaster, a sinner, the president, or a prophet of God. In fact, if we are being transparent, a lot of times when we reject truth coming from non-Christian sources, we’re trying to vindicate ourselves by justifying our disobedience in spiritualising our dysfunction.

If we are so picky about secular-sacred over music, why don’t we apply it everything else to maintain our consistency? Imagine you’re in the ICU at the hospital. How awkward would it be if you told your doctoral team that’s about to operate on you and save your life: “are you all Christians? If not, you can’t perform surgery on me!” That’s stupidity. We judge doctors based on their field of expertise. Either the doctor is good at medicine or not. And you can give God glory and praise when you walk out of the operating room healed because He has uniquely anointed the doctor with a gift in order to bring Him praise, whether the doctor is Christian or not.

The same goes for art and music. It’s not about a piece of work being “Christian” or not, but about being authentic, beautiful and excellent. Paul states in Romans 11:36 that “from Him and through Him and to Him are all things. To Him be the glory forever.” This means God is glorified in everything He creates. Does this mean everything has to be received and accepted? No! That’s why Scripture is the litmus test - does it hold up? Does it line up? Does it reflect God’s character in Jesus?

Creation Mandate or Salvation Mandate?

God cares about every domain of life - science, arts, government, culture - it’s all His. He wants redemption in those fields, and He redeemed us that we might redeem them in His name. We are created to cultivate, not just talk about religious things all day. Jesus makes it very clear He came to build His Kingdom. This isn’t just a consecrated clique, but a lifestyle entirely encompassing every realm of society. If we don’t realise it’s about the redemption of not just people but the entirety of creation, we’ll reduce church doctrine to escapism rather than restoration. Music is God’s. Sex is God’s. God invented them and called them good. Creativity is the wisdom of God manifest.

The issue with our subculture is that our art and glorification of Jesus weakens when we lose our sense of comparison. This happens when Christian musicians aren’t shooting to be the best musicians, but the best Christian musicians. The standards are lowered. Art can speak for itself. It’s a reflection of the creation mandate, not the salvation mandate. Rather than making Christian music, we should make music with a Christian worldview, much like how atheists, Budhist, and others do when they make music. There is nothing about music that is inherently Christian; it’s the worldview in the music that has the potential to be.

When we privatise our art to a nonexistent “Christian” sector, we see churches feeling the need to be relevant rather than just using their gifts to reflect who God is and what He is like. That’s the root of the seeker-sensitivity issue everyone seems to be losing their collective religious marbles about. And the problem with that is that it makes us cheap copycats of what our culture already does. This puts us decades behind “secular culture” because rather than setting precedent, we’re riding their coattails hoping to recycle intact scraps for ourselves. That’s not redeeming. That’s stealing. And if you want to have a taste of your own religious medicine, what does the Ten Commandments say about stealing?

The Laziness of Escapism

The problem with counterfeit art and Christian subcultures is that it tells a sinful lie about God. When we become lazy and only copy other art to make it Christian, we are essentially saying God is a cheap copycat and a fake who requires culture’s creativity. If God is Creator, aren’t His people supposed to be the most creative? When we make art and engage culture, what kind of picture and message are we giving the world about God? How would that convince them that God is better?

The truth is, God is a God of excellence. He accomplishes things above and beyond, lavishing excessively and adding subtle nuances to bring His name glory. When Jesus spoke to Peter about starting the church, He said “the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.” The crazy thing about that statement is that gates don’t move on their own. For them to “not prevail”, something has to be charging them, because in the militaristic sense of the word, they are a defensive structure. Jesus is implying that the Church will storm the gates of hell, not fleeing in the opposite direction. We should be engaging and infiltrating and repelling the realms of darkness as a powerful offensive. He doesn’t commission us to retreat, escape, and cling to each other because the powers of hell chase us in the domain of secular music and evil movies. No, He says infect every domain in life with His grace as radioactive contagions.

There is no divide between secular and sacred, and we completely miss the point of worship when we insist on it. God created everything, so something doesn’t have to be explicitly Christian. We judge things based on beauty and truth. God owns truth. He has a monopoly on truth. As Christians, we should be setting the bar for good art and culture, not sequestering ourselves away into our pathetic little sectarian subculture and copying the art we call is "the devil's work" in order to "Christianise" it and make it palatable for an audience who won’t see art for art, as art regardless.